


Celatum

by Ruby_Wednesday



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Fluff, M/M, Post-Kings Rising
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 05:37:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7878589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruby_Wednesday/pseuds/Ruby_Wednesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damen seeks out Laurent after he has disappeared from dinner in Arles.</p>
<p>For Captive Prince Week 2016 Day Six and the prompt <i>secrets</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Celatum

**Author's Note:**

> _Celatum_ from Latin meaning secret. I didn't know what to call this. It's kind of silly and an idea I've played with before. But enjoy!

The young guard Loic was shaking in the torchlight as Damen approached. Footsteps echoed in the opposite direction, indicating someone had just fled. There were no immediate signs of danger in the hallway leading to the Kings' Chambers, so Damen proceeded with curiosity rather than alarm. 

“Is something the matter, Loic?” Damen asked, gently. Laurent liked this guard. Damen knew that because he had granted him use of the third finest horse in the guards’ stables. 

“Your majesty,” Loic began, and his voice was raw with nerves. “I … Forgive me, but I have strict instructions from his majesty that —”

“Go on,” said Damen. He was getting tired of this now.

“You are not to be granted entry.” Loic rushed the words out.

“I am denied entry to my personal, private chambers?” Damen clarified, ridiculously amused. He thought of what his father would do if a lowly guard had told him where to go in hos own palace, though technically Arles was not exactly Damen’s. 

“That is King Laurent’s instruction.” 

Damen fixed a look on the guard who probably still in his teen years. If he looked hard enough, Damen thought the boy might soil himself and really no-one wanted that outside their bedroom door. “Step aside,” he said.

Loic obeyed.

Still, Damen hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. He hadn’t thought much of Laurent disappearing from dinner. Laurent had a very low tolerance for the trappings of court and often slipped away to be alone, leaving Damen to the endless courses and often pointless conversations. Sometimes, it was a game they played — who could get away first, who could dodge the fawning courtiers, who could make it to their room and set the tone for the rest of their night. Laurent had proven himself to be endlessly inquisitive about all the activities they could enjoy together (thought, admittedly, they often descended into chuckles or slow kisses instead of whatever idea he cooked up in that brain of his) and Damen was ceaselessly charmed by Laurent and generally game for anything.

Furthermore, if Laurent really did wish to be alone (which he had explained to Damen was nothing personal. He sometimes wished for solitude not an escape from Damen) then he would have made that happen himself rather than relying on a nervous guard to do his dirty work. There were plenty of places for Laurent to retreat to which did not involve barring Damen from the door of his own room.

This was something different.

Damen twisted the doorknob.

The shaded sitting room was in darkness, though the light from the hall revealed evidence that Laurent had been through here. The leather boots, one fallen to the side, and a face-down book which was balanced differently than it had been when they’d left earlier that evening.

Damen put his foot past the threshold.

From the bed chamber Laurent shouted, “Get out!”

“It’s me.” Damen was still seeing humour in all of this.

“I know it’s you, Damianos. Get.” Laurent split the sentence into several parts. “Out. Now”

Exile did not appeal to Damen, so he shut the door and picked his way through the dark room. The bed curtains were closed, but through the sheer fabric Damen could see Laurent lying face down above the luxurious covers. He had done that before, more than once, knowing it drove Damen quite wild to see him present himself like that. But this was different. Laurent was still clothed in his shirt and thin trousers. Laurent’s shoulders were tense a bow string. He did not turn to look at Damen.

The humour was lessening now. Damen started to worry.

“Laurent,” he said, carefully. “What’s going on?”

“What part of get out did not you understand?” Laurent countered. “Do I have to speak Akielon for you to listen to me?”

Damen rolled his eyes, parted the curtains, and sat on the side of the bed. “We’ve been through this before, sweetheart.”

“Tell Loic as you leave that his head will be on the chopping block for disobeying me. It’s a pity. He had potential.” His voice was muffled by the pillows but it was thicker, somehow, lacking its usual melody.

“He could not stop me,” Damen said. “As you could not if I chose to make you look at me. Laurent, I’m getting worried. Turn around.”

“Don’t laugh,” Laurent said.

“All right.”

“I mean it. This isn’t funny.” His shoulders shifted up and down, as if he was steeling himself to face Damen. The motion was a little heart-breaking. Damen thought they were past those kinds of barriers. 

Laurent turned around.

Damen cemented his status as a Good Man as concern outweighed the urge to laugh. Laurent’s perfect face was suddenly quite disfigured, and Damen did not take such a heinous fact lightly. 

“Poison?” He leaned forward, needing to know the extent of Laurent’s distress. “Do you know who? Should I lock down the hall. Laurent, how is your breathing? Have you —”

“Not poison,” Laurent bubbled the words out through grossly swollen lips. The bottom half of his face was all puffy. His eyes, however, were as fierce as ever. “Relax. You won’t get to kill anyone tonight.”

“What then?” Damen cocked his head, needing now a clearer look at Laurent’s face. It was rather like seeing a soldier with a hideous battle wound. You shouldn’t look. You couldn’t help but stare.

“The mussels,” Laurent replied. “I have…an intolerance.”

“I’ll send for Paschal.” Damen was rising from the bed.

“Don’t. It’s fine. I’ve taken a tonic for the inflammation. It will go down on its own.” Laurent flopped back against the pillows. 

“You knew what do to.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself.”

“This has happened to you before.” Damen felt his lips begin to curve at the corners. Now that he knew Laurent was all right, he could give into the pull of amusement.

“Not recently. And in some cases, people outgrow it.”

“Why on earth did you eat them?” Damen asked, settling back against the headboard. “You’re the King. They will make you anything.”

“The administration all but abandoned the coastal towns under my uncle’s rule,” Laurent said. “I did not wish to insult the sea lords, especially when we’re about to inform them there will be untaxed trade between Vere and Akielos.”

“You can side-step anything.”

“When I choose to,” Laurent replied.

Damen was torn between fondness and annoyance. “That wasn’t clever, Laurent. The reactions get worse. I remember a boy under my command with an allergy to tree nuts. He died in the soldiers’ mess after accidentally eating a fig left in with some nutty sweetmeats.”

“I’m not dead. It’s just some swelling.”

“It’s rather a lot of swelling, Laurent.” Damen was smiling openly now. Laurent might have been, too. It was impossible to tell as his mouth was so swollen. “No more of this. You’ll have to inform the kitchens and refuse any more offers of coastal delicacies.”

“But —” Laurent stopped mid-sentence. “Fine. Once again, my arrogant king, I will bend to your request.” His eyes were still averted. A purposeful action. Damen knew well Laurent generally preferred to look at him. “As of now, you are the only living person who knows about this,” he said. “My mother did, of course. Auguste. My . father would not have been concerned with such trifles. I imagine the staff did but…did you know my uncle got rid of everyone once he took over. Tutors. The nurses. Cooks. Everyone.” 

“That makes sense,” said Damen. It was easier to think of tactics than the terrible infliction of terrible pain. For a time, after the trial, he could hardly see anything through the shadow of knowing what Laurent’s uncle had done. But Laurent did not welcome being looked upon like that, and Damen had learned ways around it.

“I thought, well, I better keep this allergy to myself. It makes me childish. At fourteen, I was very concerned with not looking like a child.”

“Everyone is, at fourteen.”

“Later, I thought, it’s a weakness. If people know, they could use it against me. A random mishap in the kitchens could lead to a tragic accident for the young prince,” he said. “It’s not good for people to know anything they could use against you.”

“I’m not people,” Damen said.

“Nor are you articulate,” Laurent replied, with a swat to his shoulder. “I know. I don’t mean to keep things from you. Old habits and all that. Also, it’s quite hideous. I’m not very comfortable with being ugly.”

Damen had looked at Laurent long enough to get him to turn his head back towards him. The second their eyes met, Damen burst out laughing. 

“I held it in for long enough,” he said between guffaws. It was all right because Laurent was laughing now, too. 

But Laurent laughing with a swollen, shiny face was even funnier and it was a long time before Damen could compose himself.

“This is why I didn’t want you in here.”

“If you really wanted to avoid me,” Damen said. “You would have gone somewhere else.”

“And risk this being the talk of the palace, no thank you.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No. It really will go down on its own. It’s not painful. I did speak to Paschal earlier.”

“A less forgiving man might take pleasure in this,” Damen said, still smiling. 

“A taste of my own medicine, I see.” Laurent wrapped his thumb and index finger around Damen’s uncuffed wrist. “For painting you like a whore and dragging you around this palace. Lucky for me, you are very forgiving.” They had talked about this before, when they first returned to Arles, and the elaborate mahogany arches briefly felt like they were closing down on Damen’s head. “Unlucky for me, it will be an uneventful night,” he continued. “I’m sure you do not wish to kiss this face.”

Damen shrugged. “Maybe if I put all the lights out first.”

“Not really?”

“If you wanted it, and I would not hurt you.”

“Damen.” Not sounding displeased at all. 

“Maybe not on the lips,” Damen continued. “But the neck — you like that. And lower, too.” He grazed his knuckles from Laurent’s sternum to his waist. “With some effort,” he said. “My lips might swell up, too.”

“Your lips,” said Laurent, flatly. “Struggling with Veretian vocabulary again?”

“You could always instruct me.”

Laurent let out a little laugh. “Yes,” he said. “I could. In the morning.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! now that it's over you can know i was tempted to call it musculus.  
> how fun has #capriweek2k16 been? do read and review the other works in the collection! so many people sharing awesome stories.


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